


Nothing Can Sink What We Have

by Onyx_Of_Octavia



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Newt draws, RMS Titanic, Titanic AU, newtmas - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 22:30:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14924084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onyx_Of_Octavia/pseuds/Onyx_Of_Octavia
Summary: A Titanic au, Newt is Jack, Thomas is Rose, I'll fix this as I figure a better summary.





	Nothing Can Sink What We Have

Thomas sat there, staring out at the large ocean liner that looked more like a prison than the luxury dream ship it was marketed as. He wished so deeply that he could just jump out of the car and run as far away as he could, but under the watchful eye of his mother and fiancé it would be an impossible feat. A melancholy sigh escaped his lips as the car came to a smooth halt at the edge of the loading bay.

“-Om? Tom?” the rough, aristocratic voice of his fiancé, Aris Jones, son a millionaire steel tycoon, brought Thomas out of dark musings.

“Hmmm?” Thomas answered, though he really wasn’t all that interested in whatever either his mother or fiancé had to say.

“Honestly Thomas, I raised you better than this,” his mother berated.

“Sorry mother,” Thomas apologized, though he didn’t mean a word of it, “What were you saying?” he asked his fiancé, if only to keep up appearances.

“I was asking you what you thought of the ship,” Aris said he helped Thomas out of the car, before helping Thomas’ mother.

It’s smaller than I thought. I don’t see what the big deal is, the Mauritania was bigger,” Thomas said with an unimpressed sniff.

“Smaller? Thomas, dear, the Titanic is larger than the Mauritania by nearly one hundred feet, it’s the largest ship to ever grace these waters,” Aris replied.

“Hmph,” was all the response Thomas gave as he made his way up onto the ship.

“I do believe I’ll have my hands full with him,” Aris joked as he offered his arm to his future mother-in-law.

“You most certainly will, but if anyone can handle him it’s you, Aris,” Ava said as they followed behind Thomas onto what would be their home for the next few weeks, leaving Teresa, Aris’ personal assistant, to direct the crew members as to where all the luggage would be going.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Newt glanced down at his cards, keeping his features schooled in a neutral expression as to not risk anyone else at the table figuring him out. He did chance a look at Minho who was nervously drumming his free hand on the sticky table. Across from them sat two men who, had they not bet their tickets, would have been boarding the RMS Titanic at that moment. Taking one last drag of his cigarette, Newt brought everyone’s attention to himself as he cleared his throat while looking at the clock that ticked away behind the bar.

“Well boys, as fun as this has been, I do believe it’s time for two of us to face the music,” Newt prompted, “Minho?” he asked his Asian companion.

The man in question laid his hand down on the table with a forlorn sigh.

“Nothin’,” Newt said so the other two men could hear, “Sven?”

The man across from Newt threw his cards down with a frustrated grunt.

“Nada, Marcos?”

The man to Newt’s right fanned his cards out with a satisfied smirk.

“Two pair, whew, good job man,” Newt said, doing his best to sound defeated, “I’m sorry Min,”

“What? Man I need--” Minho growled.

“I’m sorry you’re not gonna see your family for a long time! Full house boys!” Newt exclaimed boisterously as he threw his hand down. Minho leapt to his feet, snatching the tickets off the table and pulling Newt into a celebratory hug. 

“I’m going to America!” Minho cheered.

“No you’re not,” the bar tender said, “Titanic goes America. In five minutes,”

Newt and Minho shared a look before brushing the rest of their winnings into Newt’s bag and taking off at a sprint towards their new lives.

“Newt! Slow down!” Minho called out as they weaved their way through the crowd.

“I thought you were fast,” Newt shouted back.

“I am, but not when I gotta deal with people in my way!”

“Hey wait!” Newt shouted in a fake American accent as they approached the doorway, “We’re passengers!” he said, handing the crew member the tickets. 

“Have you been through the health inspection?” the man asked, eying them warily as he looked over their tickets.

“Yeah, anyway we don’t have any lice, we’re Americans,” Newt answered. The man gave them a final once over before stepping aside to let them on. Newt and Minho grinned at each other as they hopped over the gap onto the ship that would change their lives forever. They raced up to the main deck, joining the crowds of people waving goodbye tot heir loved ones as the Titanic pulled away from the dock to set out on it’s maiden voyage.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Thomas rummaged through a box that was filled with different paintings, searching for one in particular. 

“Is this it?” one of the chambermaids asked, holding up a painting of a ballerina.

“No, the one I’m looking for had a lot of faces on it. Oh, here it is,” the brunet said as he pulled out the piece he had been looking for.

“Oh that’s lovely, who’s it by?”

“Something Picasso I think,”

“Something Picasso? He’ll never amount to anything,” Aris quipped as he reentered the living area of their suite.

Thomas huffed, “The difference between Aris’ taste in art and mine is that I actually have taste,”

“You call these art? If you ask me these finger paintings were a waste of money,”

“Well then it’s a good thing no one asked you, isn’t it? Now shall we go to lunch or would you rather sit here and criticize things you know nothing about?” Thomas retorted.

Aris bristled some at his fiancé's words but agreed that they should make their way down to lunch. They were joined by Zart Amadeus, chief designer and the man in charge of the construction of the ship; Albert ‘Alby’ Stein, owner of the ship; and Brenda Sinclair, a loud, opinionated woman who Thomas’ mother was not a fan of.

Thomas tuned out the pointless chatter of those around him, choosing instead to reach into his grey suit jacket to retrieve a cigarette. Doing his best not to draw attention to himself as he lit it up, he tried to look interested in the shallow flattery that was being passed around the table. Ava Northwood, Thomas’ mother, sent the young man a disapproving look as he took a long drag of the rolled tobacco.

“Thomas you know I don’t like you doing that,” Ava scolded.

Thomas regarded his mother with a blank gaze, blowing smoke in her direction to further aggravate her.

“He knows,” Aris said as he took the cigarette and snubbed it out in the ashtray.

“And for you sir?” a waiter asked Aris.

“We’ll both have the lamb, light on the mint sauce,” Aris ordered, not even asking Thomas if that was what he wanted.

Brenda inspected the young couple with a critical eye. She could sense the tension between them and wondered why no one else seemed to take note of it, but didn’t say anything.

“You going to cut it up for him too?” Brenda joked.

“Only if he asks,” Aris replied with practiced ease.

“Which he won’t,” Thomas snapped at his fiancé’s sarcastic remark.

“Well then,” Brenda began, “Who came up with the name Titanic? Was it you Al?” she asked in a slightly flirtatious way.

“Actually it was. I wanted something that would convey not only the magnificence of the vessel but also the sheer size and grandeur of the ship, Titanic will be known as the largest ship to ever sail, nothing, not God himself, could sink this ship,” Alby beamed.

“Mr. Stein, have you read anything by Freud?” Thomas inquired, a curious brashness in his question.

“No, I don’t believe I have,”

“I think you would find his writings on the male fascination with size quite interesting,” Thomas said.

“Thomas!” Ava gasped, “What has gotten into you?”

Thomas scowled at his mother as he stood up and turned to storm out of the dining hall.

“He’s a firecracker, that one, sure you’re gonna be able to handle him Aris?” Brenda teased as Thomas left.

“I might have to start watching what he reads from now on,” Aris sneered as he, too, got up so he could follow after the brunet.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Newt sat out on the deck, enjoying the sun on his pale skin, sketchbook in hand, Minho leaning on the rail beside him while he observed the other passengers, sketching away with his pencil. He looked up, watching with amusement as two crew members walked by, walking a myriad of first class dogs.

“Isn’t that just great? Those first class arseholes sending their dogs down here to take a shit,” a large blond man said from Newt’s right. He lounged against the railing, a cigarette hanging from his lips as he glared at the scene.

“Helps us remember our place in the world” Newt replied with a chuckle.

“Right you are lad-- name’s Gally, Gally O’Riley, he introduced himself.

“Newt Lockton, and this is Minho Park,” Newt offered.

“Nice ta meet ya,” Gally said, but Newt’s attention was no longer on the conversation he had just been having, but instead drawn to the handsome brunet that had appeared on the upper deck. Gally followed Newt’s gaze, chuckling lowly as he realized what was probably going through the other blond’s head.

“Oh don’t even bother boyo, his type wouldn’t even give ya the time o day,” Gally warned as he looked over the well dressed brunet that had caught Newt’s eye.

Newt sighed knowing the Irish man was right, but even as Minho waved a hand in front of his face he couldn’t find it in himself to tear his gaze away. The brunet in question must have felt Newt’s eyes on him as he he kept glancing down to where Newt sat, a confused yet annoyed expression hardening his features. Newt continued to observe the young man, his intrigue never wavering even as another man, someone the brunet seemed to want nothing to do with, approached and caused the young man to storm off. All Newt could think about was how he wished he could be granted the chance to meet the brunet, even if he did refuse to give Newt even the time of day Newt would be okay with that.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

That night Thomas sat at dinner, the ever present drone of shallow people boasting about their money and other irrelevant topics pressing in all sides. He felt like he suffocating in the false pleasantries and monotony that he was forced into day in and day out. Though it never did, Thomas could’ve sworn everyone and everything gradually grew louder. It reached the point where he just couldn’t take it anymore. He rose to his feet, excusing himself to the bathroom before dashing out of the dining hall, the only going through his mind was finding an escape.

The cool night air whipped through his short brown hair, returning it to it’s naturally untamed state. His black dress shoes echoed off the wood deck, the sound an unspoken plea that only the stars could understand. Thomas ran, stopping only when he could run no more as there was no where left to run to. The stillness of the night wrapped around him, bringing an odd sort of comfort many couldn’t understand, but as he looked out at the vast expanse of water he welcomed the feeling. Lightly tanned hands turned ghostly white as he gripped the railing at the back of the ship like it was the only thing keeping him grounded to this life—and if he was being honest with himself, it was. 

Looking around to make sure he was alone, Thomas carefully climbed over the railing, leaning out, over the exposed edge and looking down at the inky black waters below. He took a shaky breath as he considered what he was about to do, but a voice from behind almost advanced his plan to the final stage before he was ready.

“Don’t do it, it’s not worth it,” a smooth British voice said.

Thomas whipped his head around, a weak glare aimed at the man that had startled him. The man was tall, probably a few good inches taller than Thomas. He was dressed in a large flannel jacket and a pair of khaki cords. Smoke drifted out between a minuscule parting of his lips as he removed the jacket, watching Thomas with sharp amber eyes.

“Don’t come any closer or I’ll jump,” Thomas snapped as the blond behind took a cautious step forward. 

The British man raised his hands in apology and reached for his burnt out cigarette, gesturing that he was going to toss it over the edge, “Don’t do it,” he repeated as flicked the useless remains of his addictive habit into nothingness below.

“Do what?” Thomas asked harshly.

“Jump,” 

“And just who do you think you are telling me what I should or shouldn’t do?”

“Someone who is now involved,” the blond deadpanned, “If you jump I’m gonna have to jump in after you,”

“What? That’s crazy, you’ll kill yourself,” Thomas argued.

“It’ll hurt, I don’t doubt that one bit, but it won’t kill me. To be honest with ya, I’m more worried about how cold that water is,”

“H-how cold?”

“Freezing, maybe a few degrees warmer,”

“You’re lying,” Thomas said, trying to convince himself of his words.

“I wish I was, water that cold hits you all over, like a thousand knives stabbing into you repeatedly, you can’t breathe, you can’t think, about anything except the pain that is,” the Brit said as he pulled off his tan boots.

“How do you know that?”

“Spent some time in Finland during the winter, it gets bloody damn cold up there. I was helping this man with some ice fishing; ice fishing is where you-”

“I know what ice fishing is,” Thomas snapped.

“Sorry, you just seem like more an indoor type. Well, as we were walking back to his his cabin I hit a patch of thin ice, fell right through. I tried to scramble to reach the surface, but every nerve ending seemed to start firing at the same time, I couldn’t breathe, the water filled my lungs every time I tried to gasp for air. I couldn’t move, at least not on my own accord, I vaguely remember my body spazzing at random intervals. I couldn’t do anything except think that that was how I was going to die, not a very spectacular way to go out I thought,”

“What happened?”

“Well clearly I didn’t die, no, the man that I was helping managed to pulled me out just as my vision started to fade. He carried me back to the cabin and warmed me up. Guess someone out there didn’t want me to go just yet,”

Thomas stared at him, he was so close Thomas could feel the lingering heat of his breath on the back of his neck. Neither could remember when the distance between them shrunk so exponentially, but neither thought to bring it up either.

Newt raised a hand, “Why don’t you come back over to this side and you can tell me what lead you to think this was your only option, good that?” 

Thomas looked into the concerned eyes and nodded despite himself. He carefully pealed a hand off the rail and ever so slowly turned around, placing his hand into the upturned palm of the blond. The blond smiled and reached out to steady the brunet as he started to climb back over the railing.

“I’m Newt by the way,” he said as the shorter man carefully placed his foot on the railing.

“Thomas, Thomas Northwood,” Thomas replied just before he misstepped and slipped, his only anchor being the iron grip Newt had on his wrist.

“Hold on! I’ve got you!” Newt cried as Thomas frantically scrambled to regain any form of security besides the hold he had on the blond. Newt extended his other arm, grasping the brunet’s forearm and using the railing to help him pull the frightened man back onto the ship. He somehow managed to pull Thomas back over the railing and the two men found themselves sprawled out on the deck, limbs tangled around the others. That was how the crewmen found them when they arrived on the scene after hearing Thomas’ terrified screams.

Newt was immediately pulled off Thomas and placed in handcuffs, the assumption being that he was trying to rape the brunet. Once Thomas regained his senses he came to Newt’s defense, explaining that he had been trying to look at the propellers and had leaned over just a tad too far and that if Newt hadn’t been there neither would Thomas. Aris, who had been summoned to the scene after they had controlled things, was eying Newt with a critical stare. 

“Is that true?” the chief security guard asked Newt.

“Yes sir,” Newt replied, shaking his head in furious agreement.

“Well then, thank you for that,” Aris said, slipping the blond a folded twenty.

“Twenty dollars? Is that the going rate for saving the life of your fiancé ?” Thomas asked, offended that Aris thought so little of the man that had saved him.

“Fine, fine, Mr.?” Aris began.

“Lockton, Newt Lockton,”

“Ah, well then Mr. Lockton how would you like to join us for dinner tomorrow night and you can recount your heroic tale?”

“It would be my pleasure,” Newt replied. 

Thomas grinned, a tiny smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. Newt returned the smile and went about lacing up his boots as Thomas and Aris walked away.

“It’s funny, Newt fell so quickly and yet you still had time to remove your shoes and jacket,” Teresa mused.

“Jacket was already off, I had been using it as a pillow while I watched the stars, and my shoes were already half way off, I simply slipped out of them as ran to Thomas’ aid,” Newt answered calmly.

“Hmm, well lucky you were around then isn’t it?”

“That seems to be the case,” Newt said as he slid his coat on and turned to make his back to his cabin.


End file.
